Lost in the Flood
by Skabooom
Summary: When social services finally barges in and takes Isaac away from his father, granting custody to his aunt, Isaac gets the first good night's sleep he's had since his mother died. He's curled up on a bed in the house of someone who will actually care for him the way that his mother had before she died, and the way that his father never would have. (Stisaac AU - no werewolves.)
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N trigger warnings for mentions of abuse, depression, that sort of thing with Isaac...and canon character deaths, despite a non-canon story.**_

When social services finally barges in and takes Isaac away from his father, granting custody to his aunt, Isaac gets the first good night's sleep he's had since his mother died. He's curled up on the guest bed, well, now _his_ bed, in the house of someone who will actually care for him the way that his mother had before she died, and the way that his father never would have.

It's confusing for Isaac, because he knows he never would have said anything to anyone about his father, his home life, and when he finds out that it was the boy across the street, Jackson Whittemore, who's never been anything but ignorant of Isaac, who made the call that probably saved his life, he's even more confused.

He was sure that he would fall right into the foster system, that no one would want him, and that he would rotate out at 18 with no one in his life to help him, but he was wrong. His aunt Clara, his mother's sister, jumps right in, rushing to the station to get him the very same night. He hasn't seen her in years, but she's right there, claiming him as family. He was wary, of course, because he doesn't know her, not really, but he has pleasant memories of being a little boy sitting in her lap while she sang to him, smiled down at him, and somewhere, deep down, he knows that he hasn't seen her because his father didn't want him to, not because his aunt was avoiding them.

She looks like his mother, not identical, but similar, and there's something so incredibly comforting about that. Still, he waits for the other shoe to drop, for Clara to call him worthless, spineless, weak for not getting himself out of the bad situation, but she just calls him Isaac, and darling, and tells him that it's okay, that he's safe now. She cooks him meals, she drives him to school, offers to help him with his homework, then calls his teacher to complain when she herself can't solve the math problems he's been given, and she's an accountant.

Most importantly of all, though, she knows that Isaac's not okay, and that cookies and hot tea won't fix that. She knows that all of the love and affection in the world won't undo all of the damage that has been done to his psyche by his father, by the boys at school who tease him, by the years of loneliness he's suffered because he doesn't know how to fit in. She can't turn him around her own, can't make him see that he's not the worthless, stupid, hopeless young man that his father spent so much time and energy trying to convince him that he is.

She gets him therapy, and not just that, she lets him shop around. When the first therapist makes him feel uncomfortable, she pulls the plug, and finds him a second. When she asks how the first meeting went, and Isaac admits sheepishly that he didn't like the guy, she doesn't even ask why, she just promises to find him someone else.

It's the 3rd therapist that he likes, the one who doesn't make him talk right away, the one who lets him sit there for the first 20 minutes of the appointment fiddling with a Rubik's cube, only breaking the silence to offer Isaac a glass of water. Isaac accepts the glass of water, takes a sip, and blurts out "social services took me away from my father."

"Did you want to be taken away from him?"

"Yes."

The man looks at him and nods. "And where are you living now?"

"With my aunt," Isaac replies.

"Are you safe there?"

Isaac stops. He turns the water glass in his hands three times, and then looks up at the man – Dr. Jacobsen, and nods once.

"Good." Dr. Jacobsen smiles. "That's all I needed to know."

He lets Isaac spend the rest of the appointment talking quietly about things like Lacrosse and John Grisham novels, because he knows that the best way to help Isaac isn't to make him explain all of his feelings and emotions right away. He knows that the best way to help Isaac is to make sure he's comfortable, and that for all of the wariness the teenager has, he isn't going to warm up easily.

When the appointment is over, his aunt stands, smiling at him encouragingly.

"Well?" she asks.

"I made two appointments for next week – he said twice a week would be best, is…is that okay?" he asks.

"Of course, dear." She smiles, nodding, because money isn't an obstacle, and even if it was, she'd find her way around it if it meant helping Isaac.

"Okay." Isaac nods. "Tuesdays and Fridays at 5:00. So I can still go to practice."

"That's wonderful."

"Thank you," he mutters softly as they leave the office.

Isaac isn't sure that he knows what "better" will feel like when he finds it, but for the first time since his mother died, he feels like he's on a path that might eventually lead him to that.

**_A/N Alright, I know that the first chapter is short, but I liked it as an intro, I promise the next one will be longer! Though for those of you new to my writing, I tend to go for short and frequent updates, rather than long, and far apart. I hope you enjoyed this beginning!_**


	2. Chapter 2

"Isaac?"

On Friday, when Isaac goes in for what will be his 3rd appointment with Dr. Jacobsen, he is shocked, as he enters the waiting room, to see Stiles sitting there. He doesn't know Stiles, not really, but they're on the same lacrosse team, and they had Government together last semester. Stiles has always been nice enough to Isaac – or rather, he hasn't been mean to him, sometimes even nodding amiably at him in the hallways, or tossing him a ball during practice. They both warm the bench, though, so the passes don't matter much in reality, and Isaac is sure that anyone would think he was stupid for even remembering the gesture.

Isaac looks instantly for the door, because he doesn't want this to happen, he doesn't want anyone that he knows, or even sort of knows, to be here. This is supposed to be his place, a safe place, and even though it's just the waiting room, and even though Stiles is nice enough, this still feels like the beginning of a hallway full of rumors on Monday morning, and with all that he's been through already, Isaac doesn't think he can handle that.

"I haven't seen you here before," Stiles states, able to tell instantly that Isaac is uncomfortable with his presence. "Are you here to see Dr. Jacobsen? Of course you are, because otherwise you wouldn't be here, because I have the 5:00 with Dr. Keller, and there's only two in this practice." He smiles. "Unless of course, you have your time wrong, because I definitely don't."

"I didn't…" Isaac isn't sure what to respond to, or how. "You're in therapy?" he winds up asking, unable to stop himself. He's flustered by the whole situation, and Stiles' presence has thrown him completely off guard.

"Yeah." Stiles nods. "Once a week, every week since my mom died."

It's no secret that Stiles lost his mom five years ago. Or that Isaac did a couple of years before that, but it never occurred to Isaac that that might be something someone would get therapy for. His father had never given him the option, he would have seen it as weak.

"Oh." Isaac sits down, taking a deep breath.

"Is that why you're here?" Stiles asks. "Because of your mom?"

"Um, yeah." Isaac nods, because that's easier than the truth, and it's not completely a lie. If his mother hadn't died, he's sure that none of the reasons he needs therapy would have ever even come up.

"Okay." Stiles nods. "Well, if you wanna carpool ever, let me know."

And that's it. Stiles goes back to reading some magazine. He doesn't pry into Isaac's life, doesn't ask him why he's living with his aunt all of a sudden, even though Isaac knows the whole school is talking about it. He doesn't question Isaac's being here, and he doesn't try to get him to open up. He just extends a small branch of friendship, and lets the room fall silent.

Ironically, when Isaac goes into Mr. Jacobsen's office and sits down on the couch, the first thing the doctor asks him about his friends.

"I don't…" Isaac shrugs his shoulders. "I did have, when I was younger, I guess," Isaac admits softly. "But after my mom died, it just…" he trails off, because friends weren't really an option anymore after that. His father wouldn't let him hang out with anyone unless his grades and chores were satisfactory, and no matter how hard Isaac worked, he had never been able to hit that point.

"Well is there anyone?" Dr. Jacobsen asks. "Friends at school? You said you're on the lacrosse team?"

"I mean, Jackson – he's the captain of the lacrosse team, he lives across the street from where I live -" Isaac stops himself, biting his lip. "From where I used to live. He's the one that called CPS on my father," he admits. "But he doesn't talk to me, we're not friends."

Isaac feels like he owes Jackson too much to even know where to start talking to him, and Dr. Jacobsen doesn't ask him to.

"Is there anyone else?" He asks.

"Um, I guess maybe Stiles?" Isaac shrugs. "I mean, we're not friends, but he offered to drive me to therapy, so…there's…that."

"To drive you? That sounds like a friend to me," Dr. Jacobsen quips.

"No, but…I mean, he has a 5:00 appointment on Fridays with your practice partner, so he's coming here anyways."

"Still, he made the offer," Dr. Jacobsen says with a smile. "He wouldn't have done that if he wasn't trying to reach out to you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Isaac, but maybe you're not lonely because no one reaches out to you, maybe you're lonely because you've been too afraid to reach back."

"I…" Isaac looks down at his shoes, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess I never thought of it that way," he admits, his voice a low whisper.

"Well maybe you should give it a shot," Dr. Jacobsen says with a smile. "I'm not saying you have to start asking people to hang out, or come over, if that's not comfortable for you yet, but this week, give it a shot with this Stiles kid. Even if it's just accepting his ride for next week. You don't have to leap into anything, but a baby step or two could get you on the path to having a friend."

"Okay." Isaac nods. "I'll try."

And he means that, he really does, because Dr. Jacobsen is right. Isaac doesn't know how to reach out to other people, because he _is_ lonely, and he _is_ scared, but those are both things that he doesn't want to be anymore.

When he's leaving the office, he's vaguely relieved to see that Stiles is still there, crossing the waiting room towards the door.

"Hey, um, Stiles?" Isaac asks.

"Yeah?" Stiles turns back around.

"Do you…do you think maybe I could get a ride here next week?" He asks. "Please?"

"Yeah, totally." Stiles nods. "I'll drive you home after."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that, I-"

"Isaac, it's Beacon Hills," Stiles says with a friendly smile. "No one lives that far from each other."

"Oh, well…thanks," Isaac mumbles, looking down at the ground.

"Don't mention it," Stiles states. "I'll see you Monday. Have a good weekend."

With that, Stiles is out the door, and Aunt Clara looks up at Isaac from where she's been sitting for the last 5 minutes, waiting for Isaac. She smiles at him, and he nods, appreciating the fact that she didn't interrupt the longest conversation he's had with anyone other than his aunt and his therapist in the last few weeks.

"I asked him," Isaac states, looking up at Dr. Jacobsen on Tuesday. "Stiles, for a ride Friday."

Dr. Jacobsen doesn't say anything, he just sits, waiting for Isaac to finish the story.

"Oh, he said yes." Isaac nods. "We didn't sort out any of the details, though and I don't know..." he trails off, looking down at the carpet. It's standard, but somehow oddly comforting. Everything in the office is oddly comforting, and he wonders if any of that is strategic.

"Hey, it's a good start, Isaac," Dr. Jacobsen says with a smile. "On Thursday, just ask him nicely if he's still available to give you a ride, and if he's not, he'll tell you, and if he is, I'll bet he'll set up the meet."

"Yeah, that's..." Isaac nods. "He didn't tell anyone. Or at least, no one's talking about it."

"Tell anyone what?"

"That I'm here, that I'm talking to you."

"Did you think that he would?"

"Well...yeah." He shrugs. "I mean, there's a lot of mystery surrounding the whole situation, why I'm suddenly living with my aunt while my dad is behind bars, it's...really hard to keep a secret in our town, and for some reason, they want to talk about me. It's...they never saw me before, but now..."

"Now that you're at the center of some mystery, some tragedy, everyone wants to know everything about you?"

"Maybe, yeah, or maybe they think I deserved it, and they just want to get their facts straight before they tell me that to my face."

"Whoa, whoa." Dr. Jacobsen's brow furrows as he looks at Isaac. "Deserved what?"

"What my dad..."

"Is that what you think?" Dr. Jacobsen asks. "That you deserved it?"

Isaac shrugs, and there's a silence there, a silence which answers the question for him, in all honesty.

"It's what he told me, so..." Isaac shrugs again.

"It can be hard to stop believing something that's been pounded into you for years," Dr. Jacobsen says softly. "But that's what we're going to try focusing on for the next couple of weeks, because Isaac, no matter what went down, you didn't deserve for your father to abuse you."

"But what if I had just been better?" Isaac asks. "What if I had been the straight A student, the star lacrosse player?"

"He still would have come down on you for not cleaning your room," Dr. Jacobsen states. "He didn't hit you because you're inferior, Isaac. He hit you because he is."

Isaac falls silent, shrugging his shoulders, not saying anything, not doing anything. He doesn't know how to respond to that, and he's not sure that he wants to, anyways. It's a whole can of worms that he hasn't even considered before, and Dr. Jacobsen allows the silence, allows Isaac to process the small conversation, for the rest of the appointment, and when time is up, Isaac gets up and leaves on his own, without being told that it's time.

"Hi." Aunt Clara stands when he enters the waiting room. "How was the session?"

"He said it wasn't my fault," Isaac says, his voice dry, cracked, tired.

"It wasn't." Aunt Clara puts her arm around Isaac, and squeezes him gently. He's taller than her, but she can still pull him in for a hug, and Isaac lets her, because, well, it's nice to have someone close to him who doesn't lay fault to him all of the time.

**_A/N Alright - so at least one person reading missed it, and I can see how that would happen, I just briefly mentioned it in the summary, but this is an AU where there are no werewolves! I hope that's okay for you guys! Second, Thanks so much for reading, this chapter is a little longer, so I hope you enjoyed it! Definitely trying to get into Isaac as much as I can, but of course, I feel the need to disclaimer the fact that I have absolutely no frame of reference for what he is going through other than through reading and media myself. I am trying my best, though, and thanks for reading! (And also, as I'm sure that you can guess, the romance of this story will have a slow build...because Isaac needs to be ready emotionally before he can fall in love, and he's totally not there yet.) Love you guys, thanks so much for reading!_**


	3. Chapter 3

Isaac chickens out on Thursday. He doesn't go up to Stiles to talk about the ride situation. He sees him a few times, including at practice, but he doesn't open his mouth, he's too scared, too nervous, so when Friday rolls around, as bad as he feels about it, he has his aunt on stand-by for a ride.

"Hey."

Much to Isaac's surprise, when he looks up from where he's getting his books for first period from his locker, there's Stiles.

"You still need a ride today?"

"Um, if...if that's alright with you. I have gas money."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Stiles smiles. "Just wait for me after practice, or I'll wait for you, you know, just in the locker room, and when we're both ready, we'll go."

"Okay." Isaac nods. "Thank you."

The rest of the day sort of flies by in a haze, because Isaac's nervous. He's nervous about being in a confined space with someone that's not his aunt or his doctor. A part of him feels really, really stupid for being so scared about something that small, but at the same time, he just really wishes that he could teleport himself to therapy. Then again, if he did, he's pretty sure that his therapist would point out the importance of social interactions, even if one does have the ability to teleport.

He takes a long time, maybe too long, in the shower, but when he gets out and gets dressed, Stiles, true to his word, is sitting on one of the benches, fully dressed and ready to go, fiddling around on his phone.

"You ready?" Stiles asks, standing, tucking his phone into his pocket.

"Yeah." Isaac nods, and they make their way to the car.

At first it's silent. Almost five minutes, no one says anything.

Stiles doesn't reach for the radio dial, and Isaac is afraid to do it, because it's not his car, and his dad got so mad any time he tried to put on music, or change it, when his dad wasn't ready for that, but the silence is uncomfortable, at least to Isaac, so he forces out some words. Unfortunately, they're not the sort he wanted them to be.

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"Tell who?" Stiles asks.

"The kids at school," he states. "About me, about, you know, therapy."

"Because it's not their business," Stiles states. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of. When rumors get spread, the content is spread because someone thinks it's something to be ashamed of. It's not. You need help, and you're getting it. So am I. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh." Isaac nods. "I just..."

"You just assumed that everyone's got it out for you." Stiles finishes. "I understand that, there's a lot of buzz around you right now."

"Are you going to ask me about it?" Isaac asks, a sudden feeling niggling in the back of his mind, like maybe that is why Stiles offered him the rides, so he can figure out what's really going on with the Lahey situation.

"Nope." Stiles turns the car right, barely missing a red light. "It's not my business, and whatever's going on, it's on you to decide who to tell, and when to tell them. Anyone badgering you to doesn't want to know for the right reasons."

Even if Isaac did have something to say next, Stiles' words would have shocked him into silence. For another teenager, he seems so well adjusted, and Isaac wonders if that's just him, or if it's the years of therapy talking. Either way, this time, when they fall back into silence, it's comfortable, and Isaac is grateful for that.

When Stiles parks, he cuts the engine, but doesn't open the door right away.

"I think...what I said a few minutes ago, I just want you to know that it wasn't a brush off. I'll never, ever ask you to talk to me, but if you get to a point where you want to talk about it, or anything else, I don't want you think that I don't want to hear it. I know what it's like to some degree, to feel alone, like no one gets what your going through, like no one cares, and maybe I don't get what you're going through, maybe I won't, but..." he shrugs. "I do care. I may not know you well, but I don't want to see whatever this is beat you. I have always been lucky, I've always had my dad, Scott, to talk things through with outside of the doctor's office, and I don't know who you've got, but if you want me, you've got me, too."

With that, he gets out of the car and waits for Isaac to do the same. They head silently to the building, Isaac only speaking once they're both in the waiting room.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"Don't mention it. I'll see you after."

Stiles shoots Isaac a smile, and disappears into Dr. Keller's office, leaving Isaac to process the whole interaction, and, if nothing else, he thinks that Dr. Jacobsen will be proud.

He's right, of course, and when he walks into the office, the first thing that the doctor asks him is if he came in with Stiles.

Isaac nods and sits down on the couch, staring down at his feet, because in all honesty, he's still processing the interaction that he had with the other young man. Dr. Jacobsen reads the discomfort and looks at his patient, tilting his head to the side.

"Isaac?" He says softly. "Did it go badly?"

Isaac remains silent for a second, and just shakes his head, because no. It didn't. Stiles was nice to him, Stiles was compassionate. Stiles showed caring, and understanding that few had shown him at all, and there was something nice about that but at the end of the day, he was still just someone that Isaac hardly knew.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Dr. Jacobsen asks.

Isaac waits another minute, then raises his head to look at the doctor. "He was nice," Isaac says softly. "It was quiet, and sort of uncomfortable for part of the ride, but he was nice. He didn't pry, he told me that he wasn't going to, and that _he_ was a safe place, if I ever needed to talk."

Dr. Jacobsen doesn't say anything, but his face splits into a grin.

"What?" Isaac asks softly.

"Isaac," Dr. Jacobsen says, smile still very much in place on his face, because he sees something in this whole interaction that Isaac hasn't been able to process yet, and honestly, might not be able to see, even if he had. "You made a friend."

"What? No I didn't. He just gave me a ride." Isaac is confused about how Dr. Jacobsen got from Stiles giving Isaac a ride to becoming his friend, and he's pretty sure that this is the first thing his doctor has been genuinely wrong about since he started seeing him.

"It wasn't just a ride," Dr. Jacobsen points out. "He offered to listen to you, to keep the things that you tell him between the two of you. I don't know how long it's been since you've had a friend, so maybe you don't know, but that's how it works, Isaac. He's offering to be there for you, and if that's not an offering of friendship, I don't know what it is."

"Oh." Isaac looks down at the ground, but he can't stop the small smile from making it's way onto his lips.

Isaac never really considered Stiles as a friend before, but that's because he doesn't spend much time at all considering anyone to be a friend. He didn't have friends before, it was too difficult. He could never go over to their houses, and he wouldn't even dream of having anyone to his place. He was quiet, he kept to himself so that he wouldn't have to explain the bruises - there was nothing to explain if no one noticed, right? And on the rare occasion that someone did, well, he was on the lacrosse team, it was an easy out. Now, though, everything that Dr. Jacobsen was saying made sense. Maybe Stiles really was trying to be his friend, and he didn't know what to do with that, but it made some part of him happy.

"Yeah," Isaac says finally, that smile still tugging at his lips. "I...I guess I did."

"I'm proud of you, Isaac," Dr. Jacobsen says, and for some reason, those words stick with him. His father never said those words, and he knows that Dr. Jacobsen isn't a father figure, he's a therapist, but for some reason, someone being proud of him makes Isaac's chest swell with something he doesn't quite recognize until he's already on his way out the door.

That feeling that he doesn't recognize, it's accomplishment, because for once, he did something well enough, and no one's telling him otherwise.

**_A/N Alright, so this was the first real chapter involving Stiles! I hoped that you guys liked their interaction - this is a very Isaac-centric story, so bringing Stiles in slowly seemed like the best course of action! Anyways, I'm sorry about slow posting, I had a really busy last week, and I have a very busy week this week, but I'm hoping that after that it will slow down! I'm also working on proofreading better, because I type about half of this on my phone, and there's just so much autocorrect happening, but I know I'm still missing stuff, so I hope it's not too unbearable! Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Love you guys!_**

**_OH! And I keep forgetting to mention - the title is from Bruce Springsteen's song of the same title. It's great, you should all go listen._**


	4. Chapter 4

It goes similarly like that for the next two weeks. Stiles waits for Isaac in the lockers after practice on Fridays, and they drive together. When their sessions are over, Stiles drives Isaac back to the house his aunt bought, and they spend a couple of minutes parked outside of the house, Isaac trying to give Stiles five dollars for gas money before he gives up and goes inside.

It's the third week that he gets news he didn't want to hear, and for some reason, on that Wednesday, he drags himself to school anyways, because he's not sure what else to do with himself. His Aunt has to go to work, and though she offered to stay back with him, Isaac just can't ask her to do that, she's done so much for him already.

He doesn't make it past first period, though, before he goes to the bathroom and sits in a stall atop the toilet, knees pulled up to his chest, door locked, trying his hardest not to cry, but it's unsuccessful.

It's about 20 minutes before he hears a voice speaking, and he wonders how he didn't hear anyone coming in.

"Hello?"

Crap. He knows that voice, it's Stiles.

"Whoever's in there...are you okay?"

Isaac doesn't know what to do, so he stays silent, hugging his knees closer to his chest. He doesn't want Stiles to think he's that broken, that pathetic, to the point where he's crying in the bathroom at school. It's weak, and he knows it, and to Isaac, it's something to hide - tears always are.

"Do you need me to go get someone?" Stiles says softly, and the voice is louder now, closer. Isaac can see his shoes, he's right outside the stall. "Look, I heard you, and the door's locked. Don't pretend you're not in there...you're worrying me. Come on, unlock the door or I'm getting the principal."

That threat awakens something in Isaac. Why would Stiles do that? That doesn't seem kind, it doesn't seem fair. That seems like an invasion of privacy, and if Stiles goes to the principal, and he has to come and break down the door to see some sad kid crying, it's going to open up a whole new world of hell for Isaac.

"No, please don't," he says softly.

For a second it's silent, Stiles isn't moving or talking, and Isaac isn't sure what's going on, and then he speaks.

"Isaac?" Stiles asks softly. "Is that you?"

It's Isaac's turn to be silent again, because he doesn't want Stiles to know that it's him, but at the same time, he's not really sure that lying is going to accomplish anything. He nods before realizing that that is just as useless to the boy on the other side of the door as his silence is.

"I know it's you," Stiles says, though his voice is soft, un-accusing. "It's just me out here, I promise. Open the door, Isaac."

Isaac takes a deep breath, and slowly stands up, sliding the latch and opening the door, finding himself face to face with Stiles. His eyes are red and puffy from the soft crying, and even though he's taller than Stiles, it's clear that the other boy notices right away.

"Isaac, what's wrong?" Stiles asks.

Isaac just looks at him, shaking his head, because they're in a high school bathroom. It's not safe here, he can't talk here. He doesn't really think he can talk about this at all, but definitely not here.

What he doesn't expect is for Stiles to respond to that without him having to say it.

"Yeah, okay, I'm getting you out of here, come on." He moves towards the door, gesturing for Isaac to follow, but Isaac doesn't move, he stays silent, rooted to the spot.

"Come on," Stiles says softly. "I know you don't trust me yet, but look at you, Isaac. Something's wrong, this place isn't good for you right now. Put a little faith in me? I promise if you can't do that after a few minutes, I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

And that's how Isaac winds up following Stiles out of some back door of the school where the alarm has been broken for years, and buckling himself into the passenger's seat of Stiles' jeep as it peels out of the parking lot just fast enough for them to not get caught.

At first, Isaac is nervous. He doesn't know where Stiles is going, but he doesn't say anything, he just lets the other boy drive, trusting just enough that Stiles won't take him somewhere dangerous, because why would he?

Stiles drives for about 35 minutes before pulling up onto a rest area. It's the farthest up the hills that they can go with a car, and Isaac's never been up here.

"Do you want to get out and walk up?" Stiles asks. "Or do you want to stay in the car, or drive back, or...what do you want?"

"We can walk," Isaac says softly. It's the middle of the day, and it's a little overcast, so they aren't likely to run into many hikers.

"Okay." Stiles nods and gets out first, starting up the trail with Isaac close by him.

The walk is just as silent as the ride was, but this time when Stiles stops, it's at a bluff over looking the city. He sits down, and looks over everything.

"This is where I come," Stiles says softly. "When I don't want to be alone. Even if I'm by myself, there's something about being able to see the whole city that makes me feel...I don't know." He shrugs. "Not alone."

Isaac sits down next to him, knees pulled to his chest, looking out over the same sight, and he can sort of sees what Stiles means. They're in nature, but they can see the city, and there is something comforting about that.

There's more silence, and a part of Isaac keeps waiting for Stiles to ask, hoping that he will, because if he does, that will give Isaac a reason _not_ to tell. He's afraid, and if Stiles asks, he can allow himself to feel backed into a corner and ask to be taken home, but Stiles doesn't ask, doesn't push, and Isaac doesn't feel uncomfortable the way some cruel part of him wants to. It's easier for him to feel uncomfortable around people. There's less risk.

"He's pleading not guilty," Isaac says finally, the lump rising again in his throat as he does so.

Stiles stays silent, maybe waiting for Isaac to say something more, maybe just processing, for almost a full minute before responding.

"Your father?" He asks softly.

Isaac just nods. He knows there are rumors, and Stiles is smart. He's probably known since day one that the therapy wasn't only about Isaac's mom, but Isaac really appreciates that Stiles never brought it up. Being prompted into that wouldn't feel good, and he knows that.

"The rumors...they're true, aren't they." It's not a question, he knows, at least to some extent. Isaac can tell.

"Some," Isaac says softly, and then, after a few more seconds of silence, "Most."

"He'll be convicted," Stiles says softly. "CPS doesn't go to that extreme on a hunch. They have proof?"

Isaac nods again.

"And you're loving proof," Stiles looks right at Isaac. "He'll be convicted."

"I...I know that," Isaac admits softly. "And he does, too. He's not doing this to get away with what he did. He's...he's..." Isaac looks down, choking back tears, but Stiles finished for him.

"Oh my god, he's doing this to mess with you?" Stiles looks shocked, maybe even a little angry, which would be frightening to Isaac if he thought for even a second that that anger was aimed at him, but he knows it's not.

"He thinks I'm weak," Isaac says softly. "I am weak, but...he wants a trial to show to everyone that he was right, that I'm just...pathetic and worthless. Even from jail he still has control. I don't know what to do, I just..." He sniffles, trying so hard not to cry, not again.

"It's okay, Isaac," Stiles says gently. "Let it out. You're safe here."

And that's really all it takes. He's so fragile, and so scared, and Stiles is doing everything to make him feel safe, and as much as he hates that he can't prevent it, he cries. It's not loud, wailing sobs, just a quiet sniffle and a steady stream of tears, but to him, it still feels weak, because after so long of being told he's pitiful, even the comforting hand rubbing his back, and the soft voice telling him that it's okay to cry don't make it feel like anything other than weakness.

They sit there for almost two hours. Stiles says a few things, but mostly, it's just silence, but for some reason, it's comfortable. Isaac is comfortable around Stiles, he understands that there's no one here who is going to hurt him, and recently, he's found more and more places where he can feel that safety, including, for the first time in a long time, the place that he calls home.

"I'm going to have to testify," Isaac whispers, his voice weak - his entire person weak. "He's going to make me re-live all of it, every...everything he ever did to me, if I want him to be out of my life."

Isaac doesn't look at Stiles, but it's clear that Stiles doesn't know what to say, because at the root, Stiles knows that Isaac was abused, but he doesn't know the details, he doesn't know what happened to the other teenager, and he doesn't know how to make it better, how to make this any better. It's a horrible situation, and all he can do is provide comfort, he can't fix it.

"Do...do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asks slowly. "Practice?"

Isaac thinks for a moment, looking out at the view, still not looking at the man next to him, still not making eye contact, before shaking his head. He's just not ready, and is he expected to be?

"Okay." Stiles nods, accepting that easily, because it was sort of a long shot to begin with, and it's still new, all of this? It still seems new. "Well if you ever change your mind, or you get closer to the time and you need someone to hear you out, someone who, you know, isn't going to spread things around school, or give you a rough time, you know where to find me."

Isaac nods, knowing that he needs to say thank you, but he feels choked up again, scared, and he's afraid that if he moves to talk, there won't be words, just tears, and he's cried enough, he feels weak enough already. He doesn't need to add to it, nor does he want to.

Finally, after a bit longer, Isaac turns to Stiles, the lump in his throat pushed away for the time being.

"Are we friends?" he asks softly, looking at the other man.

Stiles smiles at him, and nods. "Yeah, of course we are."

Isaac just lets a smile ghost across his lips before he turns back to the view, and that's all Stiles needs right now, because he's helping. Isaac smiled, even if it is just a little, and that's making a difference.

**_A/N Urrrghhh I am so sorry that it took me so long to update! I am REALLY, really sorry! I have had a crazy couple weeks. Unfortunately, my summer schedule is a little crazy, so updates will not be as regular, but the story is NOT dead, I promise! Thanks so much for sticking with it, I hope you're still enjoying it, and yeah! I love you guys!_**


	5. Chapter 5

When Isaac gets home that night, it's almost 6 PM, and Clara is sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him as though she's been waiting for him to get home.

"Where have you been?" she asks, rising to look at him, and she looks worried. Really worried...and maybe just a bit upset, and it's that slight upset that sends Isaac stumbling backwards away from her.

"I...I was...I...I…" He can't get the words out, because he's been home late before, he's forgotten to call his father before, and come home late to so much anger, and he's having trouble separating that from this right now.

"Isaac, sweetheart," Clara steps forwards slowly, her voice soft, kind.

She's not advancing on him like she's about to strike him, and it's so different from the scenes that played out with his father, that it does start to loosen the knot in Isaac's chest.

"I'm not mad," she says softly. "I understand. You got hard news this morning, you got scared, but when the school called and said you weren't there, and then you weren't answering your phone, and I was...I was afraid you'd done something, that you'd…" she trails off, looking at the ground.

Isaac looks at her, and the fear he feels turns to guilt. She was worried about him. She wasn't mad or upset because she lost control of him, the way his father was when Isaac came home late, she was worried, afraid that he was hurt, because she cares about him. She loves him. Isaac stops backing away, and rushes forwards, pulling his aunt into a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder, despite being a good several inches taller than she is.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I...I was at school, and I got upset, and Stiles took me somewhere safe. I should have called."

"You should have," she says softly, rubbing Isaac's back gently. "But I'm just glad you're safe. I know that this is hard for you, and that I can't make it all better, and I wish that I could, I really do, but we'll get through this, okay?" She pulls back, looking at Isaac seriously. "We'll make this work."

Isaac nods, and moves away from his aunt to sit at the kitchen table, the wave of intense emotion starting to subside and give way to slightly less extreme feelings.

"I called Dr. Jacobsen, he's offered you a double appointment on Friday, which means you can still get a ride with Stiles, but I'll come pick you up. Is that alright?"

Isaac nods, looking down at his hands. He knows that it's good, the extra time will help him work through things, but it won't fix what's wrong. This won't feel better until it's all over, and he knows that could be awhile.

"Did you eat with Stiles?" Clara asks, putting a gentle hand on Isaac's shoulder.

He shakes his head, and when she asks if he's hungry, he shakes his head again.

She makes grilled cheese and tomato soup anyways, and it's not until Isaac takes a courtesy bite that he realizes how hungry he really is, and demolishes the meal.

The next day, Clara calls Isaac out of school, and calls in sick to work so that she can be there with him. She turns off his alarm clock and lets him sleep in, because it's so clear that he needs it, and when he does wake up, she makes him a full breakfast.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks him, her tone of voice indicating that if he is ready, she'll talk, but she's not pushing, and Isaac is so grateful.

"Not...not yet," he says softly, and that's that. Just like Stiles, Clara is giving him the time and space he needs to try and process what his father is doing to him.

Just because she isn't _at_ work doesn't mean that Clara doesn't have any work to do, so they sit at the kitchen table, Isaac doing the homework he didn't do yesterday, and Clara working.

Around 4, the doorbell rings, and Isaac starts, dropping his pen to the floor.

"I'll get it." Clara smiles kindly at Isaac, though it's clearly laced with some pity, as she goes to see who's at the door.

When she comes back into the kitchen, Jackson Whittemore is walking behind her. Jackson, who called Child Protective Services, Jackson, who hasn't so much as looked at Isaac since, and Isaac isn't sure what to make of it.

"I brought you your work," Jackson states, holding up a folder of papers.

"I'll leave you two," Clara says, taking her exit to the next room. Isaac knows she's close, knows that she wouldn't go far and leave him in a room with someone he doesn't really know, because Isaac knows that he can trust her.

"I need to talk to you," Jackson says, sitting down at the table across from Isaac. "I got a call from some half assed lawyer, asking if I would testify against your father."

"You don't have to," Isaac says quickly, shaking his head, curls bouncing slightly, because that's why Jackson is here, right? To tell Isaac that he won't do it?

"What?" Jackson frowns, looking at Isaac as though he's confused. "Isaac, he beat the shit out of you. I'm testifying to that. I came here to let you know that I'm in, man...and that I'm not gonna tell anyone anything, and..." He looks at Isaac. "My dad wants to represent you. Pro bono."

"Pro bono?" Isaac frowns. He knows Jackson's dad is a lawyer, but he's the fancy, expensive kind.

"It means for free," Jackson explains. "What your dad did was fucked up, and my dad and I, we're all in. We want to help."

"Thank you," Isaac says softly, looking down. He feels pathetic for needing so much help, but he can't do this alone, and now it's not just him and his aunt.

"Look, you and I may not be friends, but you deserve better." Jackson pulls a business card from his pocket and sets it on the table stop the folder of schoolwork. "That's my dad's direct line," he says, taking Isaac's pen and circling a number at the bottom. "He's expecting your call." Jackson heads for the door. "I'll see you around."

Jackson leaves, and Isaac just sits there, staring at the card. Jackson's right, they aren't friends, but Jackson is still helping, and Isaac is having trouble getting his head around that.

Clara walks back into the room and sits down at the table where Jackson was, waiting for Isaac to say something rather than ask.

"Jackson's dad wants to represent us," he says quietly, handing over the card. "For free."

"I'll call him tomorrow." Clara smiles. "You see?" She says softly, putting her hand over Isaac's, squeezing it gently. "You're not alone, Isaac."

"I know." Isaac nods.

It's still scary, but she's right. He's not alone. In fact, he's pretty sure he's never been less alone.

He sleeps better that night, though not a ton. He goes to school the next day, but it's kind of a blur until after practice when he catches up with Stiles to go to therapy.

"Hey." Stiles smiles at him as they head for the car. "You doing any better?"

"I got a lawyer," Isaac shrugs.

"That's good!" Stiles is all smiles, and Isaac doesn't really understand how Stiles can muster so much enthusiasm for things that Isaac feels drained just thinking about, but he appreciates it.

"Yeah." Isaac nods. "Oh, and...my aunt is gonna pick me up today," he says softly. "I have two hours instead of one."

"I don't mind waiting," Stiles admits as he gets behind the wheel of the car.

"Yeah, but you don't have to."

"Call your aunt," Stiles says with a smile as he starts driving. "Tell her I'll still bring you home. It's a shlep for her to get all the way out there, and I'm already there, besides, that's why they invented smart phones, so people wouldn't be bored waiting around."

"Are...are you sure?" Isaac asks, fiddling with the phone.

"Absolutely."

"Okay." Isaac makes the call, and he's pretty sure he can hear a strong hint of gratitude in his aunt's voice. When he hangs up, he turns to Stiles.

"Everything good?"

"Yeah." Isaac nods. "She wanted me to ask you to dinner."

"What, tonight?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah." Isaac bites his lip. "But you don't have to come, I know it's lame, and last minute, and I have no idea what she's making, and there was just no-"

"Isaac," Stiles cuts him off.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to come?" he asks, putting the car into park in the lot for the offices, looking over at Isaac, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side.

"I…" Isaac shrugs, because he doesn't want to say anything that makes Stiles feel obligated, but it would also be sort of nice, he thinks.

"I'll come." Stiles smiles, getting out of the car. "Sounds like fun, better than what I had planned."

"Oh, god, no, don't cancel your plans, I don't want-"

"Isaac," he shakes his head. "My dad's working late, my plans were to order a pizza, and eat the entire thing alone while watching Breaking Bad. Company is a step up."

"Oh." Isaac nods, and takes a few deep breaths before heading into Dr. Jacobsen's office.

He knows that this won't be an easy session, but Stiles coming over for dinner is something to look forwards to, and he intends to lean on that to get him through it.

**_A/N Sorry not the best chapter. Thanks for reading it in spite of that!_**


	6. Chapter 6

He's right. The session isn't easy, and he winds up crying for a good portion of it, letting all of his greatest fears out - seeing his father again, having to relive everything, and in front of so many strangers, just to make sure that his dad stays behind bars. It doesn't seem fair, and it's not, but he's been told so many times that life isn't fair, and he has more proof of that than anyone.

He feels weak and helpless when the session is over, and he knows that he got help, and that that's a good thing, but it's going to take awhile for all of that to kick in, and for the time being, it's tough.

But Stiles is there when he walks back into the waiting room, his head hung, and just seeing him, he feels a bit better. It's just another reminder that he's not as alone as he feels, that he's never going to be that alone again.

"You good?" Stiles asks.

Isaac shakes his head, because he feels he can be honest with Stiles.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Stiles bites his lip. "Let's get out of here."

Isaac nods, afraid to speak. He knows that his voice is raw from crying, and he knows that it's probably obvious that he's been crying, but he doesn't want to solidify that belief in Stiles, he doesn't want Stiles to know everything that's pathetic about him.

The drive home is silent. Stiles doesn't ask Isaac anything, and Isaac offers nothing.

When they get inside, dinner is on the table waiting for them, which is good, since Stiles is apparently starving.

Isaac pushes rice around on his plate with his fork while Stiles wolfs down the salmon, rice, and green beans on his own plate, answering the questions that Clara asks him between bites.

It's pretty clear that they're waiting for Isaac to say something, rather than trying to push him to talk, and Isaac is grateful for that right up to the moment where he falls asleep at the table, just narrowly missing face planting in the dinner Clara set in front of him.

That definitely stops the conversation, and Stiles' eyes go wide with surprise.

"He's exhausted." Clara walks over, shaking Isaac gently. "Isaac, go upstairs, get some rest."

"Hmm?" Isaac lifts his head, dazed and drowsy, and Clara just smiled at him patiently.

"You need rest. Go upstairs, get some sleep."

At first, Isaac hesitates. He has a guest, company, and he feels like an idiot for having passed out in front of him, but he's exhausted, and when Clara guides him out of his chair and to the stairs, he doesn't argue. He mutters a goodnight, which Stiles gladly returns, and goes up to bed.

It is only about 30 seconds into cleaning up the kitchen when Stiles starts asking questions.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Stiles asks, looking at Clara, genuine concern for Isaac clear on his face.

"God, I really hope so." Clara nods. "It's going to take a lot of time, though. How much had he told you?"

"Not...not much, but enough," Stiles explains. "I know his dad hurt him, his mom, brother, they're both dead. He's been through a lot."

"He's been through too much," Clara states. "And now that asshole is going to drag him back through all of it just for sport. God, hasn't the man done enough already?" Clara sets down the rag she was using to wipe the counter. "He kept me out of Isaac's life, and hurt him, and now this? Sometimes it's hard to believe that there are people in the world who are actually like that."

Stiles doesn't know what to say, so he goes back to rinsing dishes. He agrees with Clara, what Isaac's father is doing is so far from okay that he can't believe any of it is real, but he's seen the pain on Isaac's face, in the way he carries himself, and he knows that it is.

"I'm glad he has you, though," Clara states, looking over at Stiles after a long while. "I think he's gone a long time without friends, and having you here…" she trails off, and Stiles notices for the first time just how tired she looks, and can he really blame her?

"Hey, of course." Stiles shrugs. "Anything I can do."

"His father opted out of having a lawyer," Clara says suddenly, looking at Stiles.

"What does that mean?" Stiles asks. "Everything I know about courtroom procedure came from Law & Order, and I'm not sure how accurate that is…"

"It means that he's representing himself," she states. "Which means that, if Isaac takes the stand, which he really has to for maximum sentencing...his father will be the one cross examining him."

"Oh my god, are you fucking kidding?" Stiles throws the sponge into the sink, because that's aggravating, and it's wrong, and hasn't this fucker put Isaac through the ringer enough yet?

"It's awful. He's playing this mind games, and the jury will see it instantly, he doesn't have a prayer of winning, he's just doing this to have one last chance to get at his son."

"Does Isaac know?" Stiles asks.

"No. I just found out today when I met with the lawyer. I haven't told him yet, I don't know how to. That poor kid has had so much bad news in his life, and I just…I'm sorry, I shouldn't be putting all of this on you."

"Hey, it's okay." Stiles shrugs. "I get it, Isaac doesn't have a lot of friends, you just moved here, the two of you are practically an Island, and this is the last sort of time where people want to be Islands."

"You're awful smart for a teenager," Clara observes.

"That's what they tell me." Stiles shrugs, picking up the sponge and finishing up the last couple of dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

"Thanks for staying to help clean up, and are you absolutely sure I can't give you gas money for all of the times you've driven Isaac?"

"My dad pays for most of my gas," Stiles admits. "It's fine."

"Alright, well if you ever change your mind, just let Isaac know, I'd be happy to give him gas money to give to you." She walks Stiles to the door. "You're welcome here any time."

"Thanks." Stiles nods. "Will you let him know that I said goodbye?" Stiles asks. "And that if he wants to hang out this weekend, all he has to do is call or shoot a text? My buddy Scott's out of town, so I pretty much have the whole weekend open."

"I will." Clara smiles, and says goodbye to Stiles, standing in the doorway until he's safely in his car.

Besides her, Stiles is the only person that Isaac really has to lean on, and she wants to make sure he doesn't get crushed under the weight of all of this drama. He's the last person who needs to be collateral damage in this power struggle Mr. Lahey is putting on.

When Stiles gets home, his father is already back, which is unexpected, but Stiles isn't complaining.

"You're home early." He smiles, setting his keys down on the kitchen table.

"And you're home late," his dad points out.

"Yeah, sorry. I was over at Isaac's house."

"You've been spending a good amount of time with that kid," his dad observes, though really, it's only been the time between school and therapy, and therapy at home, barring the one day of truancy...which yes, he told his dad about.

"He needs someone to lean on." Stiles shrugs. "He's practically alone, he's only got his aunt, and I know you can't tell me shit, but I know that you and I both know his dad was a twisted fuck."

"I know." The Sheriff nods. "But Stiles...don't let him lean too hard, okay? I know you want to help him, but you've gotta look after yourself, too."

"Dad, I'm doing okay," Stiles assures him. "I go weekly, I don't have panic attacks hardly ever. It balances out. I promise you, I'm not putting too much on myself."

"Okay…" The Sheriff looks at Stiles in that way that says he trusts him to make his own decisions, but he's not sure if he believes what's being said. "You know I just worry because I love you," he says finally.

"I know, and that's all the more reason for me to be there for Isaac. His dad would have never said those words to him."

"God." The Sheriff rakes his hands through his hair, clearly tired. "You're so much like your mother."

Stiles gulps, not sure what to say to that at first. He remembers his mother, but he hates how much it's only bits and pieces these days.

"She would be so proud of you, Stiles, looking after him like that? She was always the nurturing type, and you're following right along."

Stiles doesn't respond, not verbally, but he reaches forwards, hugging his dad tightly, because he knows how much they both miss his mom, and he knows how much it's taking for his dad to talk about her like this. It's important, but that doesn't make it easy, and while Stiles misses his mother more than he's ever missed anyone, he's also insanely grateful to have even one parent that loves him as much as his father does.

Not everyone has that, and now he knows, he's seen how damaging that can be on a person.

_**A/N - GAH I AM SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN ME SO LONG! The story is NOT dead, I Promise! I'm just happy you're still reading! Thank you for putting up with my busy schedule, and I hope you enjoyed! Love you all!**_


	7. Chapter 7

There's no good way to tell Isaac that his father is representing himself, so Clara sits Isaac down on the couch the next morning, deciding to just rip the band-aid off, give Isaac as much time as possible to adjust to the idea, to prepare for it.

She hates doing it. The look on Isaac's face is riddled with pain, and she doesn't want any part of that, even if it wasn't her intention. She's sick of Isaac being hurt and wounded, she wants to help him get better, but how will that ever happen when every time he takes one step forwards, he gets shoved two steps back?

"How can he do that?" Isaac asks, his voice shaky.

"He has the right to a trial, and he's exercised that, and he has the right to an attorney, as well as the right to waive an attorney in favor of representing himself," she explains, her voice soft, even, hoping that that will help to calm him down.

"But he's just doing it to get to me!" Isaac looks at Clara as though he's begging her to fix this, to do something about it, but there's nothing she can do, and that breaks her heart.

"I know, sweetie, and he's using the law to his advantage one last time, but I met with your lawyer - he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. Isaac, if you don't testify, he would still be found guilty almost definitely."

"What?" Isaac looks up at her.

"There was evidence - the call from the Whittemore boy, the freezer, a lot of people who would be able to attest to the fact that you showed up to school with bruises and bumps...it's a good case, even without you."

"Yeah, but…" Isaac bites his lip. "Is...is it good enough?"

"There is a very slim chance that, if you don't testify, he could walk," she states.

"And if I do testify?"

"That chance turns into almost nothing."

"Okay." Isaac nods. "Well, I have to. I'm not letting him back into my life to torment me. He can have at me one last time if it means that I'll never have to see him again."

"Are you sure about this?" She asks.

"Yes."

It's going to be hard - it's going to be the hardest thing he's ever done, and he knows that, but he has to do it. It's better this than his father being there, lurking in the shadows, for the rest of his life. Maybe he would be found guilty regardless, but Isaac can't take that risk, and Clara understands that.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly.

"No," Isaac admits, because he knows that lying to her would only drive a wedge, and right now, that's the last thing that they need.

"Is there anything I can do? Are you hungry?" she asks.

He just shakes his head, curling up on the couch, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Do you want me to call Dr. Jacobsen?" she asks. It's a Saturday, but he's made it very clear that, if Isaac needs him, he will come into the office at any time.

Isaac shakes his head again, sniffling, trying not to cry. He's scared, he's terrified, but he's so sick of being weak.

"Do you want me to call Stiles?" she tries again. "He said that he's free all weekend, and that he wants you to call if you want to hang out…Why don't you take him to lunch? On me?" she asks.

Again, Isaac shakes his head, but Clara doesn't give up this time.

"Sweetie, you can't just stay inside and let this build up around you all day. Please, give him a call, or let me call him. I think it's good for you to have a friend around."

Isaac hesitates, but then he nods. Clara is probably right, and he doesn't want to be in the house, bothering her all day. Deep down, he knows that's not what she means, but it's not gotten any easier for him to separate her from his father in certain ways, because he got so used to the abuse and the cruelty. It's better here now, but the adjustment is still difficult.

"Okay." She smiles. "Do you want to call him, or do you want me to?"

"I can." Isaac gets off the couch and moves to go upstairs for his phone, but stops. "Thank you," he says to Clara, who just nods, a gentle smile in place on her face, before he disappears upstairs.

"Go for Stiles!" Stiles picks up on the first ring.

"Um, hi, it's...it's Isaac."

"Hey buddy! I was hoping you'd call!"

Stiles sounds genuinely happy that Isaac is on the other line, and Isaac genuinely does not know what to say to that. This is all so new to him, and it feels a little crazy, but definitely good. It's nice to know he's got people in his corner.

"Um, I...I was wondering if you'd had lunch?"

"It's 10:30, so that would be a negative."

Oh god. It was only 10:30, of course he hadn't had lunch yet. Isaac feels stupid, and debates hanging up, before Stiles speaks again.

"Did you want to have lunch later?"

"Oh! Yeah, okay." Isaac lets out a sigh of relief, because now he doesn't have to ask.

"Great. I'll pick you up in like...an hour? Does that work for you?"

"Yeah, yes." Isaac nods. "Thank you."

"Hey, thank you - I was about to be bored all day."

They hang up, and Isaac showers and changes, trying not to look like the mess he is right now. Clara gives him plenty of money, too much for lunch, really, and tells him to call if he'll be home later than five, and then Stiles is at the door, ready to go.

"So, where do you wanna eat?" Stiles asks as they walk to his Jeep.

"Wherever you want." Isaac isn't really hungry, but since he sort of initiated the lunch thing, he doesn't want to welch out and admit it.

"Okay, well there's that diner on 6th. Cheap, kind of disgusting, but in that really good sort of way?" Stiles asks. "Do you know what I'm talking about? My dad says sometimes I don't make any sense."

"Yeah, sounds good." Isaac only really fully got about half of that, but since he's probably just going to have coffee anyways, the diner is fine with him if it's where Stiles wants to go.

The drive to the diner is pretty quiet, and Isaac feels sort of bad about that, because he invited Stiles - or at least he meant to, he would have, if Stiles hadn't beat him to it, and here he was, not saying anything.

Stiles doesn't seem to mind, though, or at least he's patient. They sit down and order - pancakes for Stiles, and coffee for Isaac, before he finally opens up and says something.

"My dad's representing himself," Isaac whispers, looking down at the table, still having trouble processing that all of this is happening to him. "When I testify, he's going to be able to question me."

"Oh...god, Isaac…" Stiles bites his lip. Yes, he already knew this, but he thinks it's for the best if this one time, he plays like he didn't. "That's...that's really fucked up."

"Yeah."

Isaac sighs, shaking his head, because what else is there to do? He has to testify, and this man has his rights. It's the system working against him, hopefully just in this small way, before it starts working for him, saving him from the monster he grew up with.

"Is there anything I can do?" Stiles asks.

"No." Isaac shakes his head. "I mean, we can't stop it, so…" he trails off when the coffee is delivered, waiting for the waitress to be gone before he finishes. "I just have to let it happen. Being prepared for it is the best that I can do...and hope my lawyer shuts him down quickly if he starts pushing the wrong way."

"He will," Stiles asks. "Mr. Whittemore is a good lawyer, he...his son may be a jackass, but he's good at what he does."

"Jackson saved my life," Isaac whispers.

"What?" Stiles frowns.

"Jackson. He's the one that called the cops on my dad. He lives across the street, he heard a fight, and he did something to stop it. He also said he would testify."

"Huh." Stiles nods, looking sort of surprised by this, but not at all upset. "That's a good turn in character for him. He's still a jackasss, but at least he's a jackass with his heart in the right place."

Isaac cracks a small smile, and Stiles counts that as a victory.

"I'm sorry about this," Isaac mutters.

"About what?" Stiles asks, confused.

"About coming to you every time something disastrous happens to me, it's not fair to you. It's always...because something's wrong, and you're there every time. You don't have to be, you know."

"Oh, I know." Stiles nods. "But...I want to be."

Isaac looks up, perplexed by that.

"Why would you want that?" he asks.

"Because apparently contrary to popular high school belief, being nice to people is actually a good way to make friends, and making friends is, well, good for you. It's healthy. I like having friends. These problems that you're dealing with, they will, maybe very slowly, maybe not, start to get better. You know that, right?"

"I'm hoping," he admits. After the trial it has to get better, right? His father is the root of all of these problems, and when he's gone, he's gone. If everything goes according to plan, that is.

"It will. Isaac...life may not always be good, but it can't always be bad, either, and it seems like you've had more than your fair share of the bad." Stiles smiles at him over the pancakes as he starts to wolf them down.

Isaac just nods, and takes a sip of his coffee, waiting patiently for Stiles to eat, not sure what else he has to say.

He's sneaky, and he gets to the check first, despite Stiles putting up an argument about how it's not fair, since Isaac only had coffee...but coffee and pancakes together, the bill is only about 5 dollars, and Isaac reminds himself to give his aunt her change back.

"Okay, come on." Stiles stands up, throwing down a couple of dollars for the tip before Isaac can stop him.

"I can walk home if you have somewhere to be," Isaac says softly.

"Oh, buddy, we're not going home." Stiles smiles at him, walking to towards the car, and Isaac follows.

"Then where are we going?"

"You're just gonna have to try and trust me, okay?" He opens the car door. "Hope in."

"I…" Isaac bites his lip. "I do trust you, Stiles." And it's true. He does. Stiles hasn't lead him astray yet. He's been there when Isaac needed someone more than he ever has in his life. He doesn't know how it's all going to play out, if Stiles will eventually let him down, but right now, he very much trusts him.

"Good." Stiles smiles, starting the car. "You won't regret it."

He starts driving, and Isaac sinks into the passenger's seat. He's comfortable in this car, he's comfortable with Stiles, and being able to have that sort of comfort outside of the safety of his own room, his own bed, is really nice.

**_A/N Hey guys! First off, thanks so much for reading this, even though I've been slow about posting, and I'm sorry that it's sort of dragging a little - I'm trying to have Isaac and Stiles bond realistically without, you know, rushing them into anything. This is a VERRRRRRRRRRRRY slow build, and will continue to be so, but for those of you who don't know...I'm a happy ending writer, so hopefully it'll be worth the wait._**


	8. Chapter 8

When Stiles parks at the Sheriff's station, Isaac is confused.

"What are we doing here?" he asks, his heart rate picking up. He's been here before, but only once. He was giving a statement about his dad, and he doesn't want to go back in. It was uncomfortable, and maybe it was also somehow the best night of his life, but it was still...a lot to deal with.

"It's okay," Stiles says softly. "Just trust me, remember?"

And there's something about his tone of voice, the way he's saying it, that makes Isaac want to do just that. He nods, and gets out of the car, following Stiles.

Stiles goes in the back, punching in a code to get into the door.

"Are we supposed to be here?" he asks.

"Yes." Stiles nods. "I mean, supposed to? I don't know, but allowed to be? Yes. My dad's the Sheriff. I get access to the staff gym."

"The...gym?" Now Isaac is even more confused. Did Stiles bring him to work out? Isaac isn't wearing the right shoes for that, and Stiles really doesn't seem like the sort to hit the weights on the weekend, but Isaac is trying not to judge.

He's also sort of given up on trying to figure out what's going on before Stiles tells him.

"Yes, the gym." Stiles nods. "It'll be clear when we get there, okay?" Instincts takes over, and he reaches out, taking Isaac's hand, thinking nothing of it as he draws him towards the gym.

Isaac, though, thinks something of it, because this is the first time he's held hands with someone since his mom died, and he doesn't know why it's so weird and so comforting at the same time, but it is.

Stiles is unphased by his own actions, however, and Isaac doesn't bring it up. He doesn't want to look stupid.

"Okay, here we are." Stiles opens the door to the gym and lets go of Isaac's hand as he leads him over to a punching bag. "Do you know how to throw a punch?"

Isaac shakes his head.

"Okay." Stiles smiles. "I'm going to teach you."

"No." Isaac speaks instantly, his chest tight as he does so. "I...I don't want to."

"Why not?" Stiles frowns, looking at Isaac.

"I…" Isaac looks at the ground. "I don't want to be like him," Isaac whispers.

"Oh...Isaac." Stiles bites his lip, shifting awkwardly, because yeah, he didn't even think of that, and it makes sense, but at the same time, he wants to help Isaac past that. "You're nothing like him, and just because you know how to throw a punch, that doesn't mean you will. You know what it's like to be on the receiving end of an undeserved hit," he says, his voice gentle, comforting. "You would never put someone else through that."

"How do you know?" Isaac challenges.

"I can tell, you're not that person." He smiles at Stiles. "I'm not teaching you how to pick a fight, I'm teaching you how to safely throw a punch. At a punching bag. Yes, you could use it to defend yourself, but right now, what we're doing is projecting. You're gonna project your feelings onto that punching bag. It's not living, see?" Stiles squares up and punches the bag, watching it swing back and forth as he steps back. "No damage done. You can't hurt it. But you could hurt yourself, which is why I'm going to show you how to do this correctly."

"Oh." Isaac takes a deep breath. Stiles has so much confidence in him, and it's hard not to believe the things that Stiles says. He's so convincing.

"So first things first," Stiles says with a smile. "Make a fist."

"Okay." Isaac nods, making a fist, tucking his thumb beneath his fingers.

"Oh, buddy." Stiles shakes his head. "That's...the very best way to break your thumb."

"Oh." Isaac turns a little red. "You told me to make a fist, I just...I don't…"

"You've never fought back," Stiles says softly. Yeah, that part is pretty clear. Isaac has always been the kid getting wailed on, he's never the one that threw a punch of his own.

"Right."

"Okay, here, let me show you. Do you mind?" Stiles reaches out, his hands hovering about an inch over Isaac's poorly made fist.

"Go ahead."

"Okay." Stiles takes Isaac's hand, moving it until the fist is in the correct position. "There." He smiles. "That way, you won't break your thumb."

"Good." Isaac definitely doesn't want to add a broken thumb to the list of things that were wrong with him.

"Now stand like this." Stiles opens up his stance, standing, both his hands fisted, his body angled just perfectly towards the bag.

He watches as Isaac mimics the stance.

"Good, now, square your shoulders...like this." Stiles, though shorter, walks behind his Isaac, his hands on the other man's shoulders, helping him stand up straight, lining his body up the way that it needs to be.

It's strange for Isaac, having someone touch him, and at first, he wants to shy away, to pull back, because touches in his life? They haven't always been good, but just like the rest of him, Stiles' hands are gentle and comforting, and there's not a bone in the other teens body that would be used to hurt Isaac.

He trusts him, and that's a lot, coming from him.

"Alright!" Stiles steps back, getting back into stance himself. "You're ready, so take a deep breath, and then just like this." He throws a much slowed down one-two punch at the bag. "Think you can do that?"

Isaac nods.

"Okay." Stiles relaxes his own position. "Just think about everything that's upsetting you. I know you don't want to think about it, but it's all in there, it's boiling around, and instead of letting it make you panicky, or anxious, or sad, let it make you just angry enough to hit that bag. It won't hit back. It can't." He moves in front of Isaac. "You're safe here. That's the most important thing to know."

Isaac gulps and nods, taking a deep breath before throwing one very slow, very weak punch at the bag. It hardly moves.

"That's a start, but Isaac, really let the thing have it. You're way more upset than that. I can see it on your face. Don't hold back. We're alone here. You can cry, you can scream, just hit that bag with everything you've got. You'll feel better, and if you don't, if it's uncomfortable, you can stop and tell me, and we'll go do something else, okay?"

"Okay." Isaac nods, closing his eyes this time.

He thinks about all of it, what his father did to him, what his father is still doing to him. He thinks about he's going to have to face the man again, and say to the court everything the bastard did to him. He thinks about how his father is going to ask him questions, questions designed to hurt him, and how he's going to have to answer them, because it's the law. He thinks about how scared he is, how helpless he is...and how angry he really and truly is at his father for turning him into someone who can barely function on a daily basis.

And then he throws a punch, a real one. Hard, and aimed right at the center of the bag. It goes flying, and comes back at him with another, and another, and there are tears, and fists flying everywhere, and it's like every emotion he's never know how to express is coming out, and he's using it against this punching back, this inanimate object that can't do him any harm.

When he's done, he's covered in sweat, his curls are hanging over his eyes, and he's panting, out of breath, but he's standing tall, his hands still balled into fists. He turns to Stiles, and Stiles is smiling at him.

"How did that feel?" Stiles asks.

"Good," Isaac admits.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yeah." And it's true, he does feel better. He's not quite sure how that works, how hitting something can make him feel better, and he's worried that that's how his father saw him, as a way to make himself feel better, but Stiles is right. Isaac would never transfer that feeling onto another person, he's just not like that. Maybe his dad didn't know about this, about gyms and punching bags, and the cathartic effect it could have.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Stiles asks softly.

"I…" Isaac bites his lip. "I was just thinking that...what if hitting me made him feel better?"

"That...very well might be the case," Stiles admits. "But that doesn't make it any less sick."

"No, I know." Isaac nods. "It just sort of makes more sense now."

"Yeah, but it's still not okay," Stiles pushes. "Whatever you do, Isaac, don't justify what he did to you."

"I'm trying not to," Isaac says softly. That's so much of what he's working on with Dr. Jacobsen, with not justifying his father's actions. It's not because he's not good enough, or because it made his dad feel better, it's because his father is a mean, cruel, twisted son of a bitch, and deep down, he knows that, but sometimes it's hard to accept.

"Wanna get out of here?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah." Isaac nods.

"Where do you want to go? Ice cream? I'm thinking Ice cream."

"Ice cream...sounds nice," Isaac says slowly.

He's not usually one for sweets, and hasn't spent a lot of time eating them, but right now he's in just the right mood, he thinks, to enjoy something like that. He's spent energy wise, but for the first time in a long time, that's a good feeling.

_**A/N Sorry! I know I promised to post by the weekend, and it's still Sunday where I am, so I'm slipping this right on in there! I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and thanks so much for reading! It really does mean a lot time that you're spending your time reading my strange writing! Hope you all had a killer weekend!**_


	9. Chapter 9

When Tuesday rolls around, Isaac sits in Dr. Jacobsen's office, and he knows that he should tell him about his father representing himself, but the words just aren't coming out. Isaac spent Saturday with Stiles, and Sunday with Clara, and he actually had a pretty nice weekend all things considered. He doesn't want to make himself feel low again by talking about the things that upset him.

"Stiles taught me how to throw a punch," he starts, looking up at the therapist. "Not...not at a person, at a punching bag. He said it might make me feel better."

"And did it?" Dr. Jacobsen asks.

"Yeah." Isaac nods.

"So you've been spending a lot of time with Stiles," Dr. Jacobsen says with a smile. "That's good, Isaac, really good. Having people in your corner at a time like this, it's very crucial."

"I know." Isaac nods. "I'm...I'm nervous about court," he admits.

"Of course you are." Dr. Jacobsen shrugs, because honestly, it would be more telling, more alarming, if Isaac wasn't nervous.

"My dad gave up his right to a lawyer," he says softly. "He's representing himself, he's doing it just to...just to get in my face, I'm really scared that it'll work. That I'll shut down, that he'll see just how much power he has over me."

"When is the court case?" Dr. Jacobsen asks.

"Starts next Thursday."

"Okay." Dr. Jacobsen nods. "Well, do you want me to be there?"

"What?"

"I can come, I can sit, and I can be there for you, another person in your corner besides your aunt."

"You'd do that for me?" Isaac asks.

"Of course." Dr. Jacobsen nods. "It's not all just about money for me, Isaac. I actually do like seeing my patients get better, so if there's anything I can do to help you over this bridge, I'm going to do it."

"Thank you," Isaac mumbles.

"I'll call your aunt for all of the information," he states, figuring, and correctly so, that Isaac already has enough, too much, going on. He doesn't need that kind of pressure, any added stress. "Is there anyone else that you want to be there?"

"Besides you and my aunt?" Isaac asks.

"Yes." Dr. Jacobsen nods.

"Can you do that?" he asks. "Just...invite people to a court case?"

"No one would kick a few people there to support you out. I can pretty much guarantee that, by this point, everyone in the court system has already made up their mind about your father...and most people out of the court system."

"What do you mean?" Isaac asks.

"The article that came out today."

"What article?"

"Oh...my god, you didn't know?" Dr. Jacobsen breaks his professionalism for a moment, shocked that Isaac didn't hear about the article, that he missed it. "It was in the paper this morning, Isaac." Dr. Jacobsen gets up and goes to his desk, returning with page 4 of the newspaper.

"No…" Isaac gulps, because it's exactly what he didn't need right now. "No, god, no!"

Why does this keep happening to him? Some scumbag journalist got ahold of the story, and he published it. Sure, nowhere in the story is Isaac mentioned, and it's a short article, but it's about Mr. Lahey going to court for assaulting a minor, and it hints so heavily that that minor was his own son, and Isaac is pretty sure that there's no one left in Beacon Hills now who doesn't know what happened.

Sure, they had their theories, and most people probably had a pretty good idea of what was true and what wasn't, but this is just the icing on the damn cake.

"Isaac, I'm so sorry," Dr. Jacobsen whispers.

Isaac says nothing. He doesn't know what to say, or if there is even anything really to say at all, because it's just like one blow after another, and he can't block the punches fast enough to protect himself.

"I can't do this," he says finally. "I can't go through this anymore!"

"Isaac, Isaac," Dr. Jacobsen looks at him. "I know it's hard, Isaac, and I know that having one person do so much to you, and to have it all come out the way that it is, but if you break, he wins, Isaac. He wins. No one wants to see him win." He looks Isaac right in his eyes. "We want to see you win, Isaac. Your aunt, myself, Stiles - and now probably all of Beacon Hills, this is good, Isaac."

Isaac just frowns, because how can this be good.

"This article? It puts everyone on your side, Isaac. And maybe it's scary, the idea of walking into a room and having everyone know wherever you go, but they will support you because of this."

"I...I don't want to be seen as a victim," Isaac mutters.

"So don't be," Dr. Jacobsen says decisively. "Walk into school tomorrow with your head held as high as you can possibly hold it, and the rest will fall into line, Isaac. Sure, there will be a few shitheads, but the rest of the people? They will stand by you. It's okay to lean on them."

"I just feel so weak," Isaac admits.

"So use the strength of others," Dr. Jacobsen insists. "With a situation like yours, when someone has been alone for as long as you have, it can be hard to see any other way, but there are at least a few people who were on your side before this - hell, even that boy who called the cops."

"Jackson," Isaac supplies.

"Right." Dr. Jacobsen nods. "Maybe your father won't see it, but if you walk around, owning this, working for it, getting better, he's losing, even if he doesn't know it. I know it isn't easy, having this be something of a competition, a tug of war, but you're stronger than he is, you always have been."

"That's not true," Isaac whispers.

"Yes, it is," Dr. Jacobsen insists. "He was so weak that he had to resort to beating his own child to feel a sense of worth. That's about as weak as it gets, and you? You're here now, ready to stand tall and take him down, and when that court day comes, he can look into your eyes, and he can say mean things, but he cannot touch you, Isaac."

Isaac nods.

"He wants you to fear him, Isaac, and I know that you do, but I want you to try so hard to pretend not to. When he comes to you, when he speaks at you, look right in his eyes, and answer his questions clearly and concisely, because there is no way that the truth can be bad. It's on your side one hundred percent."

"I…" Isaac shrugs. "Are people going to think I'm weak? When they see me tomorrow, when they look at me, when they know where all of those bruises really came from without it being speculation anymore, they'll think I'm weak."

"I can't control what other people think," Dr. Jacobsen states. "But the people who really know right from wrong, and strength from weakness will see that the fact that you're facing everything is the strongest you could possibly be."

"Is that what you think?" Isaac asks. "That I'm strong?"

"It's what I know."

"Oh." Isaac nods, shifting. "I'm out of time," he says, looking at the clock on the wall.

"You can stay longer if you want, I won't charge your aunt."

"No, that's okay." Isaac stands up, heading for the door, because he needs to process this. It's getting to be a lot, everything piling up on itself, and it already felt like it was so damn much before. He feels like he's drowning, and when he walks out of that door to see Stiles standing in the waiting room, some part of him feels like he's been pulled back to the surface, to breathe.

"Hi," Stiles says softly, smiling at him.

"What...what are you doing here?"

"I saw the article when I got home, and I knew you'd be here, and I wanted…" he shrugs. "I wanted to see you."

"Oh," Isaac says lamely, for lack of a better word.

"Come on." Stiles looks to the door. "I'll drive you home."

"But my aunt-"

"I called her," he states. "She said I could come pick you up."

"Oh." Isaac nods.

"Is that okay?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, it is."

And really, it is. There's something comfortable about Stiles, and Isaac isn't sure how it got to be that way, but it is. He walks with Stiles to the car, and they sit in silence as they drive, but it's comfortable. He's not sure how they got close like this, but he's glad that he has someone to lean on.

When they get to Isaac's place, Stiles parks the car, but neither of them make any move to get out.

"Isaac, do you want to spend the night at my place?" Stiles asks. "We can do a little homework, go to bed early, and then tomorrow, when you get to school, you won't have to go in alone?"

Isaac isn't stupid. He knows that, whether people are on his side or not, whether they think he's strong, or weak, or what have you, they're definitely going to stare, and that walking through that door with Stiles would be nice, having someone else right next to him? That would be nice.

"It's a school night," Isaac says softly.

"It is." He nods. "But we're also not kids. My dad said it's alright, and I can't see your aunt saying no."

"That's...probably true," Isaac admits. She wants him to be happy, and she wants him to have friends. He knows that much is true, and it feels good, knowing that he has more than one person who's looking out for him. "I...I have nightmares sometimes," Isaac says softly. "They're loud, and I wouldn't want to wake you up."

"I sleep like the dead," Stiles shrugs. "Isaac, you don't have to if you don't want to, but if you want to, it's fine. I can sleep through your nightmares most likely, and we could have a good time."

"Okay, I'll ask my aunt."

Of course she says yes, and in less than 10 minutes, they're off to Stiles' house for the first sleepover that Isaac has had since he was very, very young.

**_A/N Gah, I'm sorry that so much of this has been filler, I promise it will start to get more exciting soon. I feel like such a scrub. Is anyone even still reading this? I just feel the need to show him and Stiles getting closer, but I'm starting to worry that it's too much. Do you guys want more of the angst and the action, or is the whole Stiles and Isaac just getting a feel for each other thing working so far? I KNOW for a fact the next chapter will be shippier. I've already started it._**


	10. Chapter 10

As it turns out, Stiles can't sleep through Isaac's nightmares, and he doesn't try very hard, either.

It's only about an hour after Isaac gets settled in the guest room that he wakes Stiles with his screaming, and without second thought, Stiles tears down the hallways.

"No, please! I'll try harder!" Isaac shouts, sniffling, and it doesn't take a genius to guess what he's dreaming about.

Stiles gently pushes the door open, and bites his lip as he takes in the sight before his eyes, not sure of how to proceed. Isaac is on the bed, thrashing about, and his face is twisted in pain. Stiles knows he can't just let him live this out, but a part of him is scared. Isaac is bigger than Stiles, and he's asleep and upset. Stiles knows that if he approaches, he could get hurt.

"Isaac?" He tries, timidly approaching the bed.

Nothing changes. Isaac is still trapped in the prison of his nightmare, and Stiles bites his lip, trying to think of what to do.

He lunges forwards and grabs Isaac's hand, just his hand, squeezing it gently, and it's enough to jar Isaac awake.

"What...where am I?" Isaac asks, tears and sweat mingling in a salty combination on his face as he looks around, panicked, trying to place the room.

"You're at my house," Stiles says softly. "You're at my house. You're safe. Isaac, you're safe here. Come on, look at me."

"Stiles?" He gulps. "Stiles, I'm sorry."

"No, Isaac, why are you sorry?" Stiles asks.

"I woke you up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Hey, it's okay," Stiles smiles at him. "I'm fine. I'll go right back to sleep, what about you?"

Isaac shrugs.

"Okay." Stiles nods. "Hold on."

Stiles disappears, and Isaac finds himself wanting to call after him, to beg him to come back, because if nothing else, Stiles is immensely comforting to him, but before he even really gets much thought, Stiles returns, carrying a pillow.

Isaac stated at him blankly, and Stiles just shrugs. "Can't sleep without my pillow."

He puts the pillow on the bed and then moves around, fixing the blankets that Isaac tossed all about during his nightmare, before crawling into the bed next to Isaac.

"What are you doing?" Isaac asks.

"Protecting you," Stiles says with a smile. "From bad dreams."

"What?"

"I know you feel safe around me, Isaac," Stiles says softly. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be alone with me so much, so I'm gonna sleep right here with you, and make you feel safe."

Something in Isaac's chest loosens when he realizes that this means Stiles won't leave the room again, that he'll be right there. He feels less stressed, less scared, but is that weird? Wanting Stiles to stay that badly?

"You don't have to do that," Isaac mutters.

"I know." Stiles smiles. "I want to. Come on, lie down." He pats the pillow next to him. "Scott and I used to do this all the time after my mom died. It's the best way to curb nightmares, I mean, unless it makes you uncomfortable," Stiles bites his lip.

"No, I...it doesn't." Isaac slowly sinks down onto the bed, Stiles' presence, his heat, so obvious and detectable, despite the fact that they're not actually touching in any way.

"Try and get some sleep," Stiles says with a yawn, closing his eyes.

Isaac nods, and with the exhaustion caused by the nightmare, and the comfort of knowing that he's not alone, he falls asleep pretty quickly.

It's a few hours before Isaac wakes up again. A car backfires outside, and Isaac starts awake, though Stiles remains fast asleep...only somehow, during the past few hours, they've shifted, and Stiles' right arm is slung over Isaac's waist.

It's careless enough that it's pretty clear it was done with zero intention, but that doesn't prevent Isaac's breath from catching in his throat, his heart speeding up just a little bit with the realization.

It's comforting, because everything Stiles does seems to be comforting to Isaac, and without even really thinking, Isaac leans into the arm, snuggling up against Stiles. When he does, Stiles shifts, and Isaac fears that he'll wake, and it will be drama, but he doesn't wake. The arm around Isaac's waist tightens, however, pulling Isaac closer, just a little, holding him.

Isaac rests his head on the pillow, comfortable in the accidental embrace.

Stiles is right. Isaac really does feel safe around him, and that feeling, of course, is magnified when Stiles' arms are around him.

Isaac doesn't go back to sleep. The clock on the bedside table says that it's 5:12 AM, they have to get up less than an hour anyways, and he would rather just lie here in the comfort of something he's likely never to experience again.

Dr. Jacobsen told him to lean on the strength of others, and Isaac is pretty sure that that is exactly what he's doing. Stiles is there for him, and no one can deny that. Sure, he doesn't really know why Stiles would be so invested in this, but he is, and he's been taking care of Isaac since they started hanging out. He makes Isaac feel safe, comfortable, and those are feelings that Isaac is still getting used to.

Isaac can mess up around Stiles, wake him with a screaming nightmare, and Stiles doesn't get mad. He's still kind, still gentle, still caring.

When Stiles shifts again, Isaac debates extracting himself from the embrace, just in case Stiles wakes up, but again, he doesn't, and Isaac stays. He wants this comfort, this sense of stability, and he wants it in a little over a week when he's facing his father in a cold courtroom.

He wants Stiles to be there, but he doesn't know how to ask him that.

* * *

As soon as it's 6, the alarm on Isaac's phone goes off, and Stiles wakes up.

"Oh, god...I'm so sorry." Stiles laughs as he realizes that he's entangled around Isaac.

"Hmmmm?" Isaac asks.

"I totally forgot to warn you...I hold on to stuff when I sleep. Usually it's a pillow, but I guess..." He trails off, gesturing at Isaac, who is already extracting himself from Stiles' arms.

"It's fine." Isaac shrugs it off, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell Stiles he liked it? That he wants to snuggle up to him again? That he was more comfortable like that than he had been in a long time?

"Okay, cool." Stiles nods, because he's a pretty laid back guy, and if Isaac isn't freaking out, he's not the sort to. "So, there is a shower just through there, if you go first I think we'll still have plenty of time, I shower pretty quickly."

Isaac nods, though he showers pretty quickly too, especially today, since he doesn't want to deprive Stiles of hot water. He gets out of the shower, makes the bed up as best he can, because he feels bad about thrashing the thing into oblivion the night before, and goes downstairs, where Stiles' dad is already standing in front of the stove, scrambling some eggs.

"Morning, Isaac," he states, dumping them onto three plates and handing one to Isaac.

"Good morning, sir," Isaac says, not really sure how else he's supposed to address a sheriff.

"Oh goodness." He shakes his head. "Mr. Stilinski is fine, or even John, if you're comfortable with that."

"Thank you, Mr. Stilinski." Isaac nods, because calling adults by their first name? That's still something he has to get used to. His father commanded respect, and he expects other adults to behave the same for some reason, despite knowing that's not the case.

"Look, if you're nervous about testifying - and you have every right to be - and you want me to talk you through it, I've taken the stand more than a few times myself, and I've coached others. I'd be happy to meet with you and Mr. Whittemore and go through your testimony."

"Oh, I...that's really nice of you." Isaac smiles at him slightly, because it really is, but before he can say anything else, Stiles comes bounding into the room, grabbing eggs and making a beeline for the coffee.

"One cup," his father warns.

"Egg whites," Stiles shoots back, dumping the eggs from the third plate that was clearly for the Sheriff onto his own.

Isaac is a little taken aback, because he can't imagine anyone getting away with doing something like that to their father, and his chest tightens, because a part of him is waiting for the Sheriff to backhand Stiles into the next millenium for something like that, but he doesn't. He rolls his eyes, and goes back to the fridge, whipping up some egg whites and scrambling them while Stiles sits down next to Isaac.

"He's got high cholesterol, and heart stuff," Stiles says in a whisper. "He sometimes forgets what he is and isn't supposed to eat."

And of course, that makes sense. Of course Stiles would be looking after his father, too.

"Isaac, think about what I said, and if you decide you want to, give me a call. Stiles has my number, or you can always just call the station."

"Thank you, si- Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles shoots him a questioning look, and his dad just looks at Stiles, nodding, and Stiles forms an 'o' of understanding with his mouth and, well, clearly they'd talked about this together before the Sheriff had presented it to Isaac, and Isaac honestly wouldn't be surprised if he learned that it had been Stiles' idea from the get go.

"Alright boys, time to get to school," John states. "Stiles, I'll see you tonight, Isaac, you're welcome here anytime."

"Thank you," Isaac mutters softly, going right to the sink to rinse off his dirty dish.

"Leave it," John says. "I don't have to leave for another 20 minutes."

"Oh...are...are you sure?" Isaac asks.

"Positive." John smiles, and hesitantly, Isaac puts the dish in the sink, and backs away, thanking the Sheriff one more time, and following Stiles out the door.

"Are you nervous?" Stiles asks as they drive.

"Yes." Isaac nods, and his stomach is in knots, his chest is tight, and he's very much regretting having eaten those eggs, because he does not feel anywhere near capable of keeping them down right now.

"Just take deep breaths," Stiles says softly. "And remember that I'm right there. If I'm not in class with you, I'm never that far away."

"Thank you," Isaac mumbles, and while he knows that will be comforting to him in part, he's not sure that it will completely take away what he's feeling.

"You ready?" Stiles asks, parking the car.

"Not even a little bit," Isaac admits.

"Perfect." Stiles smiles. "Let's do this."

**_A/N First off, thank you for ALL of the WONDERFUL and kind comments on the previous chapter! - I have been having trouble replying to reviews on this site, I go to reply and it says "the review you want to reply to is not there," so if you have not gotten a reply, that is the reason, and I am so sorry! I really hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter, as I promised, it's a teensy bit shippier, so I hope that you liked it! Thanks again for sticking with the story!_**


	11. Chapter 11

Isaac can tell the moment that he walks into the school that everyone's eyes and attention are on him, but he can't look anywhere other than down.

He knows that everyone is whispering, he can hear them, even if he can't make out what they're saying, and he's at least glad that no one's coming up to him, talking to him. He's practically counting the number of steps he has to make, giving himself something to focus on, in order to make it to his first period class, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Stiles is right there beside him, like he has been since they walked into the door, smiling at him. Stiles nods encouragingly, but there are no words, they just keep walking.

They pass the door to Stiles' first period class, but Stiles doesn't take his hand off Isaac's shoulder, doesn't stop, and Isaac can't voice how much he needs that, but he gets the feeling that Stiles knows, and that he understands just how much good he is doing for Isaac by being there, by walking him to class.

When they get to the door of the classroom, Stiles stops, holding Isaac's shoulder firmly, keeping him from entering the room just yet.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks, his voice low, soft, the words meant just for Isaac, and not for any of the prying ears trying to listen in for any details, or drama, or scandal that might have been left out of the article.

"I don't know," Isaac admits, because it's really better to be honest about that sort of thing.

"Okay, well if you're not, do you what you did last time, okay? Only text me. Go to the boy's bathroom, text me, and wait there. If you need to get out, I'll come get you, okay?"

"Okay." Isaac nods, though his eyes are nowhere near meeting Stiles'.

"Okay?" Stiles smiles at him. "You're gonna be just fine, okay? Just fine. Maybe people are talking about you, but at least you know one thing - they're all on your side. None of these kids, as stupid as they may be, think that you, in any way, deserved what your father is doing to you now, or what he was done to you in the past. You got that?"

"Okay." Isaac nods again, not really sure that he can say anything else.

"And remember, if you need to get out of here, just text me. That's all you have to do, and I'm there."

"Okay." Isaac nods yet again.

"Good luck, okay? It's just school."

"I know." Isaac bites his lip. "Stiles?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Thank you."

"Hey, no sweat." Stiles smiles at Isaac. "That's what friends or for."

With that, Stiles is off down the hallway to his own class, and Isaac is left nervous, but with a smile on his face.

Friends.

They're friends.

* * *

The first four classes go by in a blur, in a haze that Isaac sort of misses. He tunes everything out - and it's not just the whispers of his classmates, but the lectures from his teachers, and it's probably wildly clear that he's not paying attention, but no one calls him out for it, and why would they? He's the scared little kid who's daddy knocked him around.

No one's sure what to say to him.

When lunch comes, all Isaac wants to do is run and hide in the bathroom, because he doesn't think that he can handle a cafeteria full of people staring at him, but it's like Stiles is reading his mind, and heads him off just outside of his fourth period class.

"Come on," Stiles smiles. "Eat with me."

He doesn't give Isaac the chance to say no, just starts walking towards the cafeteria, and Isaac follows.

He follows because he trusts Stiles, because he knows that, of everyone in this school, Stiles is the one that has his back, the one that will have his back, no matter what. Stiles has been there for him for awhile now, and he's not quite sure how he got to the point of trusting the other man enough to follow him into a cafeteria full of curious, rumor-laiden, hormonal, teenagers, some of whom are plain evil...but he got there.

The line for food seems longer than it ever has before, and by the time Isaac and Stiles are carrying their tray to an empty table in the back, it feels like the lunch period should be over, but it's not. It's barely begun.

Stiles sits down, and Isaac sits right next to him, looking down at his food. No part of him is hungry at all, so he picks up the plastic fork and shoves the food around on his plate. It's not bad food, all things considered - it's a high school cafeteria, and it could be a lot worse, but nothing in him is ready for food, and he's so nervous that he's certain he would just throw up anything that he did manage to swallow.

He's so mesmerized by the movement of a grape across his plate that he starts, jumping a little, as another tray is set down at their table. He dares himself to look up, and there's Scott McCall, Stiles' best friend, and reserve player on the lacrosse team, sitting with them as though nothing is weird about that at all.

Seconds later, another tray sets down, and there's Jackson Whittemore, followed closely by Danny Mahealani, Greenberg, and about 8 other guys from the Lacrosse team.

None of them say anything to Isaac about anything, none of them say anything at all, they just sit down and eat their lunches while Isaac stares at them in awe and confusion.

"What?" Jackson asks, once a good half of the team is seated around the fairly small table.

"I just…I…" Isaac shrugs, saying nothing.

"You didn't think we'd let you go through this alone, did you?" Scott asks, looking at him with those big, brown eyes of his. Scott has always been a nice guy, but he's not always been the most clued in.

"We're a team," Danny interjects. "Team stands by each other."

Isaac just sort of stares at them, his mouth hanging open, because that's really not what he was expecting. At all.

He was expecting prying eyes, and prying ears, and people wanting in on the drama of it all, but he wasn't expecting anyone except for Stiles to stand by him, to be there for him, and to have half of the lacrosse team, guys he doesn't even talk to, guys he hardly even knows at all, sit with him, showing their support for him, it's fucking amazing, but it's also really overwhelming.

Isaac gulps, shifting nervously, and Isaac isn't sure if he's really obvious, or if Stiles is just really tuned in to him right now, but he reaches out, putting his hand on Isaac's shoulder, just like he did earlier when Isaac was freaking out, and Isaac is definitely starting to associate that gesture with comfort.

"Hey, it's okay," he says with a smile. "I told you, didn't I? Everyone's on your side, Isaac."

"All of us," Greenberg pipes up.

No one says anything to Greenberg this time. No one tells him to shut up, or makes fun of him, they just nod in agreement.

Isaac relaxes, but just a little bit. He's still hyper aware of everyone, of everything going on around him, but the fact that he's surrounded by people supporting him? That makes it a lot better.

"And hey," Jackson says with a smile, grabbing Isaac's attention. Isaac pays attention to Jackson, because he knows how much he owes the other man. Maybe Jackson won't come right out and say it, and he's not being public about how much he knows, but he saved Isaac's life, and he's going to do it again by testifying in court. "If anyone gives you any trouble about this, just let us know, okay?" He gestures at the guys. "We'll keep them off your back."

"Th-thank you," Isaac mutters, looking back down at his food.

He knows he should be saying more, showing his gratitude in more intense ways, but the small thanks is about all that he can manage right now. It's an overwhelming feeling, but in the best way possible. To have that many people rallying around him, people that he thought would be cruel, people that he didn't expect to care about him at all, feels really good. It makes him feel cared about, special, and most of all, it shows him that Stiles was right.

People don't think that he deserved what happened to him, and if no one else thinks it, then why should he?

"Here." Stiles reaches on to Isaac's plate and takes the tuna sandwich. "If you're not gonna eat it…"

"Go ahead." Isaac can't help but smile, because if anyone else took food off of his plate, he'd be upset at the personal space boundary being broken, but it's Stiles, and the way that Stiles smiles back just before biting into the sandwich makes him feel good, makes him feel happy.

_Stiles_ makes him feel happy, and more importantly than that? Stiles makes him feel safe.

**_A/N Alright, some people were asking for Isaac to have other friendships, and I do plan on that! I want his relationship with Stiles to be solid, trust comes VERY slowly to Isaac, so this is him, starting to get a feel for trusting other people, for letting others in. I wanted solidarity to be shown, and I hope that you guys approve of, and support the way that I went about it! Thanks so much for reading, and I love you all!_**


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